Reaping Rake

Your lips were shielded

My attempted kiss was fielded

I was at mid-on, you were in the deep

Have you lost the ache

Or did I make a mistake

Was another known, sown to reap

Your lips were dry

My finger tips did try

I was in a spot; you were playing a sideways shot

Have you lost the ache

Or did you make, on purpose take

A solemn aplomb chastity vow

Your body wandered

My advances squandered

I was seeping, you were wicket-keeping

Have you lost the ache

Or were you playing the long game

No time for a quick one, as slow coming she came

Your last defence was tested

Tip of tongue, engaging, redemption rested

Your lips moist to wet, tongue tip nest and set

Was it lust or just a mistake

Afterwards you, did you ache

One more fallen swollen reaping rake

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Escaping Away

It has been a busy day

I have escaped a long long way

Early on I was talking to Mr. Masefield

Resplendent in his business black suit

The cut was neat, lined with finest silk

The hair was brave, not a Locke did misbehave

He was with Elisabeth, is it Mrs. Stanhope Forbes

By the edge of the woods, turkey crop and scythe

They were wondering at the Moonlit View 

Of Mr. Francis Darby’s Eastern city

As they dared to forsake, partake

In Mr. Geoffrey Hill’s grinning cake

In the background, surround sound all around

Beside you, sang Mr Van Morrison, oh Astral Weeks

It has been a very busy day

I have escaped ever such a long long way

Journeyed almost as far as Camilla

Who married again, this day, today

I did not go to the service

I spilt my tears among the radio congregation

Tears of joy and there but for the grace of god go I

Or is it the North Wind

Blowing alongside the dust ball, to the canal basin

That which I am to engage with, in regeneration

A long term plan, you say

I retort, as if Capability Brown ever saw

His landscapes as anything more than nature

In full sway, in full public awe

Here in Weston Park, under the mid-day

Noon time dark

Clouds, clouds with Eastern rain

And Southern comfort

It has, as I say, been a long long day

I’ve escaped, escaped in a very busy way

Before meeting Mr Masefield

I’d scribed a few words of my own

Memories of yesterday’s funeral

Polish youth, in Polish dress, the Pope was thus blest

Memories of yesterday’s other funeral

The receivers set the works to rest

Oh and lest I forget

I’d imagined and spoken, words under my breath

I’d spoken, under my breath

Another day, escaping death

It has been such a long day

Escaping in many a different way

Unlike the child dying in St. James Hospital

By the Poet’s hand in the library compilation

‘Out of Fashion’ I recall the cover rolled

Although I did not study the small print

I did though take the flyer

To hire a china dragon, a dragon blowing fire

And I bought some books, go on, take a look

Yes it is John Stammer’s ‘Stolen Love Behaviours’

And Jackie Kay’s Life Mask, although I thought

The cover was an Eduardo Palozzi creation, it was in fact clay

And finally Scenes from Comus by Geoffrey Hill

Ticked by the Archbishop of Canterbury no less

It has been, as once again I say

It has been a long day

It is not yet noon, although it will be evening soon

Beneath the midnight of the moonlit moon

Except that today, yes today of all days

Today I am escaping away

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Sixteen’s the word

It has been sixteen years I’d say

Sixteen years I’ve been losing my way

It’s sixteen years

Sixteen years to the very day

And sixteen years before that score

Sixteen years plus some more

Another sixteen years

Sixteen years leading again, out of the door

Then sixteen years, before some more decayed

Sixteen years or more I’d stayed, stayed and played

With my mother and her lover of sixteen years

Sixteen years of unconditional love she gave

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Exponential form

Colour; gold or silver or invisible white, I guess the truth is the colour was not seen.

But for arguments sake, and by the way there is no one here with which to argue, so there we have it, the colour was invisible bright white.

The weight was between weightlessness and an immoveable load, the burden though was fleet of foot and moving, moving to all parts of the physical being, seen through some ‘in body’ out of body experience.

So to give some basis for further thought, if that’s ok, we’ll give it the weight of the pulsating sheep’s heart, pulsating in free gravitational space.

Mass, I guess, and force or distance travelled, combine to give some measure of energy or interpersonal, magnetic, dynamic pull.

Well it was here, there, took no time at all in flight, yet it consumed all around, and filled every void, it was the size of a cloud bursting, a cloud filling the soul.

In this case to add to the algorithm, or the proposition; call it if you will, we will give it the dimension of an almost round-cornered trapezoid in elemental, five dimensional space.

In these modern times communication engulfs nation over nation, yet this creation held the communication platform by its own choice, for its own time, without duplex or duplicity, no modem held it bound.

For it is power of thought transmission we will, I’m sure you will agree, then give it a level of an infinite skill.

There we have it then, we’ve got some components to consider, all that’s left is the combination.

But unfortunately, as fast as we can create and combine, we must be aware that there is a strong destructive force not far away.

The next bit though is for you boys and girls to take on and complete.

All I’ll do for now is give, give, me being a generous sort, I will give you one of many possible endings:

Pulsating at the pace of the dying heart, pulsating and fading like a decaying amplitude modulation, slowly arising, slowly declining, slowly disappearing, slowly reappearing, peering in decaying exponential form.

In that one moment; here, and gone.

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Passing by

The stars are popping, skip hopping

Into the blood blue, blue night sky

A further station of the cross, it is show stopping

Mopping up the blessed, blest Pope John Paul

The shooting stars fly east to west

Fading aureole carried by the borealis

Boy I’m blest

I am no longer second best

Freed from among the rest

The night time test is going west

Boy I’m blest

I’ve flown the nest

Popping eyes

Stopping lies

Dropping why’s

And hints of evermore

The blue night sky

She’ll show me where to lie

Hang my hat beyond the falling star

I’ve travelled far

To lift this lowered bar

Back up aside the Byzantine tzar

Up into the ether

With John Paul meeting Peter

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